


Sparked?

by LordGrimwing



Series: Neos Mnestis [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Medical Procedures, Slash, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8358724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordGrimwing/pseuds/LordGrimwing
Summary: Sandstorm isn't feeling well. What the doctors have to say doesn't help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this story takes place sometime after the three major installments in the Neos Mnestis series. 
> 
> Written as a birthday gift for my sister, who's flippancy started this pairing.

“Sandshtorm? Jou okay?” The soft words and careful servo on his hip pulled the orange and yellow triple changer from his recharge.

“‘m fine Sunny.” He murmured, pulling the golden mech more snugly against his side. “How ‘bout you?”

“Vell, as long as jou are vell, so em I.” Sunstreaker snuggled securely next to Sandstorm’s warm chassis.

***

Sandstorm placed a steadying servo on the wall, supporting himself as the world took a sudden barrel roll. The dizzy spell didn’t last long. They’d been happening off and on for the past few weeks now and he felt he was doing a good job at not showing them, so it was irking that what’s-his-name-white-sword-mech was giving him a critical look over from down the hall.

“What?” The triple changer growled as the other approached. He stood away from the wall, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest plate.

“I’ve noticed your spells of dizziness.” He craned his neck up to look at the Kalisian. “Perhaps you should see one of the doctors about it.”

“Not that I don’t care about what you have to say… Drift” right! That was his name. “But the truth is I just don’t give a slagged scraplet about what you have to say.” He brushed past the former Decepticon, almost knocking the much smaller mech over as he made his exit into the rec room which was more of just a bar. 

Which turned out to be a mistake.

The room was crowded and noisy and he was almost sure it was beyond it’s safe occupancy level. However, Sandstorm really,  _ really _ , want a cube of energon that was way too mineralized. His almost one-minded desire reminded him eerily of his--albeit very short--stent as a terracon. Really not something he wanted to recall. 

“You here for the usual?” Molotov asked as he began mixing servo sized clumps of additives into the oversized cube his boss, Canary, had made special for the giant triple changer.

“Sure.” The drink oddly didn’t sound too appealing this time though. “Actually, could you add some extra bralium?”

“Totally.” The effeminate, green mech chirped, throwing in another few portions of elements and stirring until the drink turned yellow. “Enjoy!” He slid the cube into Sandstorm’s waiting grasp. “And that dries up the credit in your tab. Would you like to refill it today?”

Before He could answer, Molotov flitted away to tend to another insistent customer and his bondmate took his place behind the bar. “So, are you going to refill the tab?” Margareta asked, tapping her painted digit tips on the counter top.

“No. Not today.” He gulped down the rest of the burning concoction and left.

***

That extra bralium really had not been a good idea. Sandstorm bemoaned as he leaned against a wall. With no nothing to do and his two bondmates busy, the giant mech had nothing to do other than wallow in his misery. Which, in the end, only made things worse. Maybe Draft--whatever his name was--was right and he should go see one of the medics. He had nothing better to do, and if he got lucky, the funny one, First Aid, would be working. That young mech was a real laugh, especially when one of the other medical mechs were telling him off for something or other.

Sandstorm huffed as he left his spot against the wall and started the trek to the medical wing. It wasn’t far, but by the time he got there, the giant mech was feeling oddly worn out.

“Can I help you with something?” The query came the moment the medbay door slid open before him. Sandstorm mentally groaned.

A red and white mech sat at the on-call desk with an array of holocharts spread before him. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked Ambulon, but the Iaconian did have a tendency to be just a bit too rough with patients. The roughness he’d seen from the heavily armored mech was enough to cause him to actually consider some of the rumors that the apparent monoformer was ex-con. Not that Sandstorm had a problem with ‘cons, what with the whole peace treaty the lieutenants had worked out with Astrotrain. 

“I think my systems need to be recalibrated.” Sandstorm explained. “I’m have some trouble with balance.” System misalignment was happening annoyingly often ever since the procedure to revert him back to a normal(er) Cybertronian. Pharma did mention that dark energon left some pretty unpleasant side effects. He was lucky that was the only one he had. 

“Get on the berth.” Ambulon instructed as he came out from behind his desk, what was presumably Sandstorm’s heath file clamped firmly in between his servos.

The Kalisian sighed, doing as ordered. He stepped on to the inclined slab, leaning back until all of his weight was supported on the berth, Sandstorm resolutely kept his servos at his sides, even when he was tempted to swat at the medic when his prodding and pulling became a little too strong. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“There doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with your frame.” Ambulon stated as he stepped to a shelf and pulled down some scanning equipment. “But I’ll run a check on your processors and spark just to be sure. Your file does say you are prone to slight glitches in your systems.”

“Yeah, most are side effects from some of the procedures that the function council had run on triple changer. Though, this is kinda strong for one of those.” Sandstorm didn’t see the Iaconian twitch at his words. The Kalisian easily opened the data ports on his neck and allowed the cables to be plugged in.

“This will take a little while. Just relax. Feel free to slip into recharge if you want.” Ambulon typed away on the screen of the scanner in silence after that. 

Even lying down, Sandstorm felt too odd to do anything more relaxed than stare at the ceiling and count the dents. How did they all get there? A mech his size could hit the dull gray expanse without even trying, but for most of the mechs and femmes who’d returned the Cybertron this far--which was quite a few now--it was too high to reach even when jumping. Interesting. Maybe he’d ask about it one of these days when he wasn’t feeling like a speck of rust in a windstorm. 

Ambulon made an odd huffing sound and began typing with a little more force than was really necessary.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, everything is fine.” Ambulon took a step back. “I am just not very familiar with this machine. I need to ask Pharma something. I’ll be back momentarily.” With that he walked briskly to a door leading into another section of the medical wing and disappeared. Perturbed, Sandstorm lay back, shutting off his optics as he waited.

“That’s not normal for his frame type.” A slightly scratchy voice hissed.

“It’s what it’s telling me.” Ambulon insisted. “Run the test again if you like.”

“That’s exactly what I’ll do.” 

Sandstorm onlined his optics to the sight of a blue, red, and white seeker working with the scanner, slender digits sliding effortlessly across the screen. A look of perturbed consternation flashing over his lined face plate every so often. 

“Ambulon.” Pharma began, turning around. “Go and bring those two Kaonnite twins in here. I don’t care what thet’re doing, get them here now.” He ordered.

“Yes Pharma.” Ambulon dashed off, running through the main medbay doors almost before they’d slid open.

“And you.” Pharma turned back to the large mech lying before him. “Are just going to lay back and relax.” With that, he reached for the berth’s controls and arranged the slab until it was horizontal to the ground.

“What’s going on?” Sandstorm was more than a little concerned. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were listed as his significant others, why in the universe would the doctor want them here? It couldn’t be that serious… could it?

“What did I just say about relaxing?!” Pharma snapped as the spark monitor he’d just attached through one of Sandstorm’s chassis ports began bleeping an unhealthy sound. “Do you want me to sedate you?!”    

Right about then, the doors were almost shoved apart as Sunstreaker and his brother entered, Ambulon close on their heels. 

“Vat is it? Vat’s vrong” the red and black on asked, crimson optics instantly fixing on the cables running from the triple changer to a variety of machines. Again, Sandstorm hand realized as Pharma, and now Ambulon, was plugging all those things in.  

“Zis mech vouldn’t tell us anyzing usevull.” Sunstreaker marched forward, golden digits clamping over one of the seeker’s red and white wings. “Tell us vat is goink on. Now.” He demanded.

Jerking his sensitive wing from the gladiator’s grasp, the Vossian said it just about as bluntly as he could.

“I’m what?!”

“He’s vat?!” The three exclamations were all but in unison.  

“Sandstorm is sparked and unless the two of you want your unborn sparkling extinguishing, I suggest you get less touchy,” he glared at Sunstreaker, “and get some of your CNA into these.” The Vossian all but hurled to four plastic vials at the heavily armored fighters. “Remove some of that needless plating and snap to it!” He directed. 

“And you!” He rounded on Ambulon. “Unless you want to dealing with a sparked triple changer going into shock, get a sedative in his system now! Before he realizes what I just told him!” His red and white assistant scrambled off to prepare the injection. 

When he came back to administer the sedative, Sandstorm was still just staring up at the ceiling a look of utter confusion on his face plate. Pharma was, of course, still ranting.

“Really, how could he not notice anything before now?! Unobservant glitch helm! I’ve only ever seen Iconolee mechs make it to this stage--and they had carrier mods!”

***

Sandstorm woke up to the most disconcerting conversation ever.

“Pharma managed to trace the spark’s growth back to the day it started. Not an easy task--he wanted to make sure I told you two that. Now, to go on with getting the growth tank ready for building a frame for your offspring. All I need to know is which one of you two spark merged with Sandstorm on this date.”

Silence.

“You two have got to be kidding me.”

Silence.

“Do twins have to do  _ everything _ together?!” A clank as First Aid buried his face plate in his palms.

“Ja, ve do.” Sunstreaker didn’t sound sorry about it.

“Ga! Now you’ve made me think about it!” Gagging noise. 

That was odd. Sandstorm supposed he’d have to ask the twins about it later, when he could get his optics to boot up.  


End file.
